Backstage Kisses
by Lady Assassin Moonbeam
Summary: A girl from Romania comes to the Opera Populair and causes quite a stir, especially with Erik, who positivly hates her! ErikOC later on.
1. Nadir's Kindness

Hello! This is my latest chapter story. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't, in any way, own the Phantom of the Opera. That's Gaston Leroux.

Pale streams of morning sunlight lit up the delicate new facade of the rebuilt Opera Populair, glittering gold filigree attracting the attention of a young Romanian girl. She pulled her ash grey shawl tighter about her shoulders and quickly ascended the sparkling marble stairs. Reaching up a thin pale hand, the girl knocked forcefully upon the double doors, it's echo resonating throughout. With a loud, audible creak, the doors swung open, revealing the managers Andre and Firmin.

"Well hello there little one," Andre said with a warm, kind smile. "What can we do for you?"

"I was wondering," the girl asked, voice slightly tinted with an accent, "if you would be willing to give me a job."

"What? As a chorus girl? Ballet dancer?"

"No, no!" she exclaimed. "I cannot sing to save my life, and my dancing is atrocious! Perhaps as a stagehand?"

"A stagehand?" laughed Firmin harshly. "That's not suitable for a wretch like you. Now off!" The manager shoed her away as she jumped back, a venomous look staining her emerald eyes. In a huff, she shot off into the alley alongside the opera house with tears streaming down her face. Suddenly, she ran head first into a stranger. They fell back, the girls eyes glued to the grimy alley pavement in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry monsieur," she mumbled.

"That's quite alright, but it's best to watch where you are going, young miss." The girl jerked her gaze upward, meeting the kind, dark eyes of the voice.

"You are a foreigner too?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes, yes I am," the man said, straightening his turban. "My name is Nadir, and I am from Persia. Who, if I may ask, are you?"

"I'm Alexial Valarious from Transylvania. My parents sent me here so I could live a better life than what we had." She sighed sadly. "But I cannot seem to find anyone willing to employ me." Nadir cast a thoughtful look toward the opera.

"Have you tried-"

"Yes, just did," Alexial replied hurriedly, cutting him off. "And they rejected me as well. I wouldn't want to impose on you, monsieur, so goodbye." As she turned to leave, Nadir grasped her arm.

"I am positive," he whispered, "that I can get you a job here." Alexial cast her eyes downward in fear as the Persian suddenly pulled out a knife. She dove away with a grunt, mistrust gleaming in her steely expression like daggers. Nadir glanced at the girl, confused, then laughed in good nature.

"Oh no dear girl! I mean you no harm! I simply meant for you to look like a boy, for they are more accepted in this society."

"If you're thinking of cutting my hair off, I won't allow it!" Alexial clutched a lock of long, midnight hair protectively as Nadir sheathed the knife with a sigh. He looked around quickly, squinting his eyes in the dim light.

"Aha!" he said triumphantly under his breath. The Persian bent down, picking up a dusty brown messenger boy's hat. "Hide your hair under this." After she had tucked her inky locks under, the Romanian looked exactly like a teenage boy of the age. "Perfect, and your clothes are a boy's also, which is good." The girl discarded the shawl and looked about herself nervously.

"I fell so different," she mused.

"And you look different too," Nadir replied, "but your cover is blown if you keep your voice high like a lady's."

"Oh." Alexial cleared her voice and made it deeper. "Better?"

"Much better." He guided her to the opera house steps. "Now go."

"Thank you so much monsieur Nadir," the girl whispered gratefully. "How can I every repay you?"

"By looking out for the Opera Ghost. Protect his whereabouts and make sure he does not kill." The Persian seemed so frightened of this Opera Ghost: both of him a what would happen if he was found.

"I will try." Nadir smiled and turned away, disappearing in the morning crowds. A paperboy was yelling out today's headlines, waving the article about in the air and in peoples faces, much to their annoyance. Alexial quickly adopted the boy's accent and manner, practicing with desperate precision in her mind. With hope and uncertainness shining in her heart, she raced up the steps again and pounded enthusiastically on the golden molding. Again, the managers greeted her.

"Mornin' guvner," she slurred perfectly. "Need a hand 'round here?"

Okay, that's chapter one. No flames please, but do review. I have the next nine chapters already written, so if you want to hear the rest, REVIEW! I'll only put the next chapters up when I have reviews. Hope you enjoyed


	2. O G Stikes Again!

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! They really helped, and I know I kind of wacked Nadir out of character in the last chapter, so sorry.

And without further ado, Chapter Two! (Hey, that rhymed.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Alexial heaved up a heavy stage piece, switching it with another as sweat streamed down her face. Even though her job required heavy, manual labor, it was more than worth it. Now she got food, shelter, and ten francs a month. Andre and FIrmin had decided to hive her Joseph Buquet's old job: ste manager. The only downside of the occupation was the constant whispers about it. About a _curse._

"Hey Jim!" Alexial yelled in her deep voice. "Why's me job cursed again?"

"Jesus Dan!" the older stagehand cried, using her fake name. "Don cha 'member nuthin? It's 'cause ev'ry man in that job _dies _one way or 'nuther. Buquet was murdered by O. G. an' Johnny boy fell ou' the rafters. An' thas jus' the last two of'm." Suddenly, a loud screech filled their ears.

"Fer the love of God," Alexial muttered, rubbing her temples. "An why do they get Carlotta ta sing when she sounds like some dyin' horse?"

"Dunno. 'Nuther one of life's mysteries." Jim turned away, returning to his station as Alexial covered her ears in pain.

"Make it stop!" she groaned quietly.

"But of course," came the disembodied reply. A black gloved hand slid out of the darkness, unhooking the main rope of the current set piece. The backdrop teetered dangerously, then started falling forward toward Carlotta.

"NO!" Alexial leapt forward, wrapping her arms around the ropes and pulling with all her might in a frantic attempt to help the people scrambling below. She fell back, pulling the set back with her. It crashed, the force of it shaking the Opera house to it's foundation, yet thankfully missing anyone behind. The girl staggered to her feet and leaned over the railing, panting hard.

"Is everyone alright?" she called out. She waited in the silence for an answer, but none came. All eyes were on her, staring in horrified shock. Suddenly it hit her.

She had not deepened her voice.

Tentatively, Alexial reached a hand up to her face, her fingers brushing the coarse strands of hair tumbling over her face realizing her cover was blown.

"A girl!" fumed Firmin as he dragged ALexial to the door. "A street rat! A foreigner! And no look what you've done! A fortune in damages! You're lucky I don't have you arrested."

"_I'm _lucky?" the girl raged. "I just saved your prima dona! The least you could do is let me keep this job."

"Keep it? I wouldn't let you have it in the first place if I"d have known your true identity!"

"Monsieur Firmin!" ALexial blinked away tears of fury and glanced over to the woman in the taffeta dress. She was aged, her blonde hair tied back in a braided bun.

"Madame Giry," the manager hissed, "now is not the time."

"You are far to brash," the ballet mistress spat, wrenching the girl from his grasp. "She is no older than my Meg, and you treat her as though she is some common criminal! You should be ashamed."

"Ashamed? Look at that!" Firmin gestured to the crashed set piece. "It takes money to fix things like that."

"Or ingenuity," Alexial said quietly. "My parents taught me well about fixing things so I could help them back home. I assure you I can get that set piece up and running again by this time tomorrow. Just _please _let me stay." FIrmin thought about it for a moment and after a little leverage from his partner, he grudgingly consented. Madame Giry smiled warmly and beckoned to her.

"Come dear girl," she said as she guided her down a hallway. "I shall get you a room in the girl's dormitories and you can meet my daughter, Meg."

"That sounds wonderful!" Alexial exclaimed. "And I am in your debt for standing up for me."

"That's quite alright." Madame Giry led Alexial back through a series of hallways until they came to the last room. The ballet mistress knocked lightly on the black painted door. "Meg, dear. Are you in there?"

"Just a second mama!" There was the sound of shuffling before a blonde ballet girl opened the door.

"Meg," the woman said, "this is Miss Alexial Valarious: our new set manager. She will be staying with you."

"Oh! So _you're _the new stagehand!" Meg exclaimed gleefully. "Come in! Come in!" She swung the door open, letting the Romanian take in the room. It was wide and bright light streamed in from the open window, making the dark polished wood of the walls glisten with an enchanting glow. In between two starched white beds was a night stand, a pair of pick ballerina shoes and lamp sitting proudly atop it.

"Goodness," Alexial breathed. "It's positively _grand_!"

"You should see Carlotta's room," Meg said. "The place is draped in gold and silk."

"Not everything rich glitters with the light of innocence, as does this room." As the girls chattered away like excited chipmunks, Madame Giry shut the door and walked away with a smile on her face.

"You're so lucky to travel across Europe," Meg sighed, falling on her bed.

"Not really," Alexial mumbled, fiddling idly with her hair. "I was robbed and manhandled by vicious bandits the whole way."

"Goodness!"

"Yeah, but at least I got here more or less intact. My mother told me Paris was a beautiful city filled to the brim with art and music. When they sent me away, this was the first place I thought of."

"Sent you away?" Meg asked, aghast. "But why?"

"Famine."

"Oh.' The ballet girl patted the other comfortingly on the shoulder. "I'm sure your parents will be okay." Alexial suddenly embraced Meg.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed. "That means so much."

"Any time!" Meg de-tangled herself and set her sapphire eyes on her new friend. "Can I ask you something?" The girl looked up, puzzled.

"Ask me anything."

"Well," the dancer said, wringing her hands, "what happened earlier? With the set?"

"A black gloved hand came out of no where and unhooked the ropes. When I looked around, there was nothing but shadows." Alexial gazed in worry at Meg's small face, drained of color. "What's wrong?"

"He's back," she whispered.

"Who?"

"The Opera Ghost!" the dancer hissed. "The Phantom of the Opera! He's come back!" When she had calmed down, Meg told Alexial all about the Phantom. About how he had kidnaped Christine and murdered Buquet and Piangi. About how she and her mother helped try to capture him.

"I still have his mask," she mused. Meg opened the night stand drawer, pulling out a small, simple box. "Please don't tell Mama. She'll have my head for having this!"

"Don't worry," Alexial assured her. "I swear I won't breath a word."

Cautiously, Meg drw off the lid, daintily lifting out a black porcelain mask.

"We searched the whole lair," she explained, "but all that was left of him was this mask."

"It's amazing!" Alexial cried, youthful eyes sparkling in wonderment.

"No it's not. Nightmares about him always float around it. I want him to take it back."

"Well I hope you sleep well tonight," the Romanian said, hopping up. "I have to repair the set."

"Alright then." Meg waved goodbye as Alexial sprinted down the hall, eager to show the managers what she was capable of.

Woo! Another chapter done. Please R & R, but no flames. Another disclaimer: any event in here did not actually happen in real life, well, at least I don't think so. Stay tuned!


	3. Pity

Alright, Chapter Three! (crickets chirping) And there's no one here. Oh well, onward.

Disclaimer: If you think I own the Phantom of the Opera, you're crazier than he is.

Erik: Ahem glares pointedly at the authoress

Um, right. Sorry!

"Stupid, stupid lantern," Alexial muttered furiously as she struck another match. "Light already, dammit!" It sputtered for a moment then blew out with a hiss, leaving the girl to sulk in the darkness. The, faintly, she heard the rustle of cloth and fingertips brushing against the wood of the set.

"Hello?" she whispered, terrified. "Who's there?"

No answer.

"Come forth! I mean you no harm!" She struck yet another match, this time it keeping a steady orange beam of light. In the dimness, Alexial barely saw the shadow themselves move. She stared, fixated on the spot when suddenly a burning sensation overtook her fingers. With a shout, she flung the match into the lantern, sparks flying. Alexial cradled her injured hand in her lap, pain filled tears threatening to spill, when a pair of cold, skeletal hands enveloped hers in an icy embrace. She sat frozen in fear.

"Clumsy girl," said a cynical voice. "Wandering around my opera house with an open flame? Careless." The sparks in the lantern flared to life, casting the shadows away. ALexial gasped in horrified shock, wrenching her hands away and scuttling back into darkness. A black hooded figure towered above her, but withing the cloak was a horrendous sight: a skeleton-like face peered down at her with ferocious golden eyes. His skin was pulled taught across his gaunt features and he lacked an nose. This, twisted lips jerked back in a snarl, though his eyes shone with pain.

"Pitiful street rat," he spat. Angrily, Alexial stood up, immediately noticing his black gloves.

"You!" she shouted, jabbing in the chest with a burned finger. "You were the one who unhooked the set! You're the Opera Ghost!" Without warning, the Phantom caught her neck in an iron grip, choking her.

"Tell anyone of my existence and I shall kill you." He released the stagehand and strode into the darkened hallway. Alexial followed his path, like a moth to the flame, untill he turned a corner a disappeared into the shadows.

Morning's rosy fingertips lightly caressed Alexial's cheek, rousing her from slumber. Quickly, she surveyed her work with a satisfied smile and sprinted back to her room. Flinging the door open, she pounced on Meg and viciously shook her awake.

"Meg! Meg! Wake up Meg! Please!" The dancer slapped the other girl's hand away irritably.

"What is it?"

"I met up with the Phantom!" Meg sat straight up in bed, rigid as a board.

"What did he do to you!"

"Nothing, actually." Alexial cast a fleeting glance at the box under the night stand. "I think he was trying to help me too. I pity him, Meg. I really do. He's hurt." She started picking at her burned, peeling skin as the ballet girl gasped in shock.

"Alexial!" she shrieked.

"What?"

"I'm taking you straight to Mama," the dancer said, tugging the stagehand towards the door. "If your lucky, that won't scar."

Yay, done. If you have the time, please review, but no flames. Please and thank you.


	4. Never Provok His Anger

Hoorah! Chapter Four! And thank you very much to my lovely reviewers, you guys are the best.

Disclaimer: As amends for last chapter, if you think I own Erik, you're stupider than Raoul. Better?

Erik: Yes, very much.

Ahem, going on.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Four

Never Provoke His Anger

"What were you doing last night?" Madame Giry scolded.

"Fixing the set," Alexial replied timidly. "I can't go back on my word."

"And 'tis very noble to do so," the ballet mistress agreed, wrapping the girls hand in a bandage, "but you must be more careful."

"I understand." Meg fidgeted with the hem of her tutu as the older Giry tisked.

"Dear, this burn is will defiantly scar," she said. "You should have been cautious."

"It's not her fault Mama!" Meg burst out suddenly. "Erik is back!"

"Megan Aria Giry!" Madame Giry thundered. "You know better than to mention him aloud!" The dancer looked eagerly toward the older woman.

"Who's Erik?" Madame Giry sighed heavily, looking solemnly at the girls.

"Well, she began, "after you incident last night, considering you must have run into him, you have a right to know." And she proceeded to recount her experience of finding Erik in the gypsy carnival. Alexial was thoroughly stunned.

"My God," she breathed, "I never knew." Suddenly, there was a startling crash from the kitchen, like shattering glass. Meg rushed over.

"Mama!" she screamed. "Come quick!" The other two peeked around the dancer, eyes widening in fear.

"He's struck again," Alexial murmured.

"Indeed." Erik stalked out of the shadows and over the broken tea pot, lips wrought in a nasty smirk. Madame Giry stepped in front of the terrified girls.

"Erik," she said ,warning him, "don't do anything rash."

"Rash?" he roared. "_I _shouldn't be rash? What about _her_?" The Phantom pointed an accusing finger at Alexial.

"Me? What did I do?"

"_You_, my dear, have disobeyed me." He took a menacing step forward.

"I told no one except Meg and Madame Giry," the stagehand shouted shrilly, "and they already knew you!" Pushing past the ballet mistress, Erik pulled Alexial up to him, distorted features centimeters away from hers.

"_Then why are they at my doorstep?_"

"What?"

"They are gathering around the mirror, about to make a pathetic attempt at capturing me. You told them I still live."

"What are you talking about?"

"Erik," Madame Giry said, soft but stern, "release her, she knows nothing about what's going on. My daughter brought her straight here and she has not left. I will go the old dressing room and sort out anything. Meg, Alexial, Erik; you three shall stay here."

"Not a chance," the Phantom shot back, "I'm coming with you." The older Giry finally lost her patience.

"YOU WILL STAY HERE AND WATCH THE GIRLS!" After assuring that he wouldn't leave or hurt the girls, Madame Giry made her way to Christine Daae's old dressing room forcing her way through the ever growing crowd around it. Jim the stagehand stood at the front next to the elaborate, gold framed mirror.

"A'right!" he shouted. "We go through this 'ere mirror and bring back tha damned ghost. Ya hear?" The noise around him grew to a deafening height until the ballet mistress shattered the mirror with one swipe of her cane. A few ballet girls gasped as silence descended in a thick blanket. Giry cleared away more of the reflective shards, bringing to light a solid slab of concrete.

"Now GO!" Almost eagerly, the crowd dispersed until only she and the stagehand were left. Madame Giry sharply snared the young man's ear, earing a good loud yelp from him. "Those who speak of what they know, find to late that prudent silence is wise. I will tolerate no more of this nonsense, understood?" Jim nodded furiously and shot off down the hallway as soon as she had freed him. With a sigh she set off back to her room, and just in time. As the older women opened the door, infuriated shouts reached her ears. Apparently, Erik and Alexial had gotten into a very heated argument over why she was here, which ended abruptly when she screamed:

"AT LEAST I _WANT _TO LIVE, YOU CORPSE!" Erik reeled back, stunned, mismatched eyes glistening with tears that refused to drop. Realizing her grave mistake, the stagehand took a step forward, trying to apologize.

"Erik, please. I didn't mean it! I'm-"

"ENOUGH!" with a rough shove, Alexial fell to the ground and landed on her burnt hand. She cried out in pain, cradling the limb as she gazed back up at Erik's terrifying presence, stalking off into the shadows.

Who would like to see Jim die before this story ends? Send me a review telling me what you think, but no flames please, and no killing Alexial before I put up the next chapter. I need her for the rest of the story. Thanks!


	5. Nightmares

Disclaimer: Due to Gaston Leroux not putting a copyright on the original Erik, I can claim him!

Erik: Think again! (grinds teeth)

I was joking, my dear Phantom. You belong to every Phangirl.

Erik: (raises and eyebrow) Is that so?

Yes, now can we please proceed?

Erik: By all means.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Six

Nightmares

"He almost strangled you!" Meg raged as she paced in their room. "How _dare _he! That lousy, son of a-"

"Meg!" Alexial exclaimed. "Please! I don't want to talk about it."

"But you could have died!"

"Please Meg," the stagehand begged. "Just drop the subject." The dancer looked at her friends helpless, tear-stained face and sighed.

"Of course," she replied. "Now it's getting late, let's both get some sleep." Meg curled up under the covers and fell fast asleep while Alexial sat, staring intently at the box that contained Erik's mask. She shook her head and finally lied down, drifting into a fitful nightmare.

(Dream)

"_Why do you always interfere?_"

Alexial gasped and lashed her hands out into the darkness, trying vainly to grab hold of something. Instead, skeletal arms wrapped around her waist and dragged her back wards. Screaming and flailing about, she tried her hardest to free herself, but suddenly was paralyzed.

"I'm going to die," the Romanian thought with cryptic amusement. "I'm really going to die." Without warning, she dropped onto a damp, cold stone floor, a faint light shining down of her. Alexial tentivly rose to her feet.

"Is anyone there?" the girl called. "Hello? Please answer me!"

"_But of course._" Alexial turned slightly, glimpsing Erik gliding toward her, his disfigured features contorted in a mocking smile. The stagehand started backing away from him as he floated closer.

"_Careless._" Suddenly, the floor beneat her gave way.

(End Dream)

Alexial jerked awake, frantically gulping down air as Meg worriedly hovered over her, blonde hair mussed about.

"Alexial!" she screamed. "Calm yourself! Calm down!" Breathing very hard, the stagehand fell back against the pillows in a cold sweat.

"Erik," she breathed, "oh Erik." The dance stroked the girls' hair, murmuring comforting to her.

"Come," she said, getting up. "Let's sneak something from the kitchen." Meg nudged Alexial with her elbow. "I bet some chocolate will cheer you up!"

With a sniff, the Romanian followed her Parisian companion. "Chocolate? I have had that in years."

"Really?"

"Yes, sugar is a luxury in Romania."

"Then lets go!" But before they left, Alexial took the Phantom's mask with her, to give it back to him, and to rid themselves of the nightmares.

Alright, please read and review. If you do, you get roses from Erik.

Erik: (holds up roses)

If you flame, he gets to punjab you.

Erik: Mwahahaha! (holds lasso menacingly)

Choose wisely. Thanx!


	6. What's Rightfully Yours

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Seven

What is Rightfully Yours

A floorboard creaked loudly under Alexial's bare feet.

"Shush!" hissed Meg. "Do you want us to get caught?"

"Sorry." After sneaking around another corner, the pair came to the double oak door of the kitchen.

"Here we are." After easing the squeaky hinges open, the stepped into the vast, dim room. Moonlight gently filtered in and the remnants of a fire crackled in the hearth. Various knives and pots and pans hung from racks, clean as whistles.

"Come on!" the dancer urged. "Christine and I used to do this all the time."

"Really? And you never got caught?"

"Never!" Alexial stared solemnly at the back of Meg's head as she dragged her along.

"You miss her, don't you?" she murmured.

"I do," the ballerina replied. "But we shouldn't dwell on the past. Look!" She swung open a pantry door rummaged around inside, jerking out a box with "CHOCOLATE" on it in bright yellow letters. Alexials' eyes widened as she seized the silky brown square offered to her, shoving it eagerly into her mouth.

"It's just like I remember!" the stagehand exclaimed.

"Hush! You don't want people hearing us!"

"Sorry, it's just so good!" Meg grinned and popped a piece in her own mouth.

"All the ballet girls sneak stuff from here every once in a while," she explained. "I swear, they barely give us enough food. Just soup and bread."

"You would think they'd heat you guys better, you guys dance all the time." Meg nodded.

"Yeah." The two sat there for a while longer, eating and gossiping and sharing stories: either about the Opera Ghost or vampires.

"And the floor in our dressing room starts to run with blood whenever he's angry at us," the ballet girl said, trying to scare the other girl. Alexial wasn't phased.

"That's all?" she asked. "I thought he would do much worse."

"What could be worse than that?" The stagehand was still for a moment, rolling the chocolate over her tongue.

"Well, he could be like the Countess Bathory: torture his victims and bathe in their drained blood."

"Yuck!" Meg hissed in disgust, making a face.

"It's true." Suddenly, they heard a distant clock chime one in the morning. They stuffed the box back in the pantry and tiptoed out the door when Alexial asked the odd question, "Am I allowed to see Box 5?"

"I can take you there. Hopefully Erik's sound asleep." Through another series of labyrinthine twists and turns, the girls finally reached the Phantom's opera box. Meg glanced at the stagehand. "Why did you want to go here?" Alexial gave the dancer a melancholy smile as she set the black mask on the plush crimson seat.

"To return what is rightfully his." When the pair was safely out of earshot, Erik slid out from behind a curtain, watching them fade into the distance. With a sweep of his cloak, he retreated back into Box 5, snatching the mask and pressing it hard into his face. The cool porcelain stung at the warmer contours of his features. His golden eyes scanned for any sign of life. Seeing none, he turned and disappeared again.

Well, your glad you got your mask back, aren't ya Erik?

Erik: Yes.

And please review, but no flames. Thank you!


	7. Gifts

Disclaimer: Can't say I own Erik, or he'll throw me in the torture chamber again.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Eight

Gifts

"I don't get it Daroga!" Erik raged, pacing the floor of his lair. "I yell at her, threaten her, brandish my face, and even try to kill her. And yet she still shows me nothing but kindness. What does she want from me!"

"Have you ever taken into consideration that she could just be like that on her own will?" Nadir asked. "And she did insult you a few days ago." The Phantom leered at him and stalked over the bookshelf, predator eyes searching for something behind the mask. The Persian peered over the newspaper he was reading. "Maybe _you _should be the one showing kindness to _her_." Erik whirled around.

"How _dare _you!"

"Maybe she just wants you to be happy!" little Reza, Nadir's son, piped up. The Phantom's gaze softened at the child's comment.

"Perhaps." He trailed a bony finger along the spine of a novel, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "Do you suppose she reads, Daroga?"

"Never know until you try."

Alexial awoke the next morning to the sound of Meg scuffling through the closet and a heavy _something _on her stomach.

"What in the name of-" She picked up the two books sitting atop her, not noticing the red skull sealed envelope fluttering to the ground. "Oh Meg! You shouldn't have! Although I really don't read french well and I don't know who Edgar Allen Poe is, it's still very kind of you." The dancer raised and eyebrow at her.

"What do you mean?"

"These books! You got them, didn't you?"

"No, not me." Meg strode over and snatched up the envelope, handing it to the stagehand. "Erik." Tenderly, Alexial fiddled with the seal until it pealed off. On the slip inside it read: _A gift, O. G. _She turned the note over and over.

"That's uncommonly nice of him," Meg whispered in fear. "The only person her ever gave gifts to was, Christine." The stagehand laughed.

"Don't worry!" she giggled. "I'm positive he's not after me, I can't sing for my life! I can act decently, but not sing." Meg was still unconvinced.

"I hope you're right, Alexial. I really hope you're right."

Darn, that was a really short and pointless chapter. Little Reza is probably not in character because I'm using my muse Reza, who is undoubtably much different. Say hi Reza!

Reza: (waves and smiles from his seat) Hello!

Ain't he adorable? Anyway, review and as always, no flames. Thankx!


	8. Unexpected Casting

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own him.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Nine

Unexpected Casting

Alexial adjusted her hat, making sure all her hair was safely tucked away, before switching the scene to the countess's bedroom for the repeat rehearsal of _Il Muto_. Carlotta stood in her jarring pink dress, fanning herself and ordering around her little maids. Suddenly...

"ARGGGGGGGGGG!" The girl nearly dropped the set piece as Andre galloped on stage, furiously waving a slip of paper. "This cannot happen! The man playing the pageboy broke his ankle and cannot be here! What are we going to do?" Firmin snatched the paper from his partner, hastily scanning it.

"This can't be happening," he mumbled. "Who will fill in? Everyone has a part."

"Why not hold auditions," suggested Madame Giry. "I'm sure one of the stagehands have the ability to play the part."

"She does have a point," Monsieur Reyer agreed.

"Well," said Andre, "if both Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry say so, then we should consider it."

And all day, various people tried out for the part of the pageboy, and all were turned down. Backstage, Meg nudged Alexial.

"Why don't you give it a shot?" she asked.

"I told you," the stagehand replied, "I can't sing to save my life."

"But it's a silent role!" the dancer whined.

"It doesn't matter. Freezing on stage is a fault of mine: my knees lock up, my tongue feels like cotton, and I sweat like a pig!" She looped the rope around the hook. "Besides, I'm set manager. Who will take _my_ place?"

"Jim?" Meg inquired, hopeful. Alexial scowled, malice clouding her emerald eyes.

"I don't trust him as far as I can throw him!" Suddenly, a weathered, old hand rested on the girl's shoulder.

"I'll take over fer ya, Miss Valarious," the old man slurred. "Yeh go up there an' show 'em!" Nervously, the stagehand obliged.

_Poor fool he makes me laught_

_Ha ha ha ha ha!_

_Ha ha (etc.)_

_Time I tried to get the better _

_Better half!_

_Poor fool her doesn't know_

_Ho ho ho ho ho!_

_Ho ho (etc.)_

_If he knew the truth_

_He'd never ever go!_

"That was good, Miss Valarious," Andre applauded. "Very good."

"A lot better than the others," Firmin mumbled. Carlotta scoffed.

"Good enough for a street rat," she spat, swirling off to her dressing room as Andre eagerly shoved a script into her hands.

"Rehearsal is next week. Don't let us down." Alexial stood, rooted to the spot in post-performance shock as she squeezed the stack of paper until her knuckles ached from strain. Meg bounded up in front of her, waving a hand in her face.

"Alexial?" she called. "Are you awake? It's over now, you're the page boy!" The stagehand blinked in confusion, then gazed at the dancer.

"It's over?" she asked wearily. "I got the part? I didn't mess up?"

"Yeah! Come on, let's get back to the room. You look terrible!" Meg guided the frightened girl down the hallway all the while congratulating her a nd giving her encouragement. Madame Giry had watched the girl's performance, and she was actually quite good. Shaky, but good. As she thought, the ballet mistress sensed something behind her. Spinning around, she found Erik towering above her.

"You were watching," the older woman stated. Erik's eyes glinted as he blinked.

"Yes," he mused thoughtfully, "but she's to tense. The stagehand won't make it through the performance."

"Then I have a proposition for you," Madame Giry admonished firmly. "You assist her."

"Why?"

"She's kept your secret thus far, it is the least you owe her."

"I owe nothing," the Phantom spat furiously. Madame Giry glared an "I-will-kill-you-if-you-don't-help" glare as Erik sighed.

"Fine, fine, I'll do it, but what do I get?"

"_Erik_."

"Oh, alright! You have yourself a deal."

Well, at least giving Alexial stage lessons is easier than teaching me violin.

Erik: Yes, that's true.

Now, read and review, but no flames. Thank you!


	9. Lessons

Disclaimer: Don't, can't, won't.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Ten

Lessons

"What am I going to do?" Alexial moaned, burying her face in a pillow. "This opera has so much to remember."

"Alexial, you'll be fine," Meg whispered soothingly. "It's one night, you'll be okay." Still, the girl held her dully shocked expression. Suddenly, there were three sharp raps upon the door. Meg scrunched up her face. "I hope it's Mama. Maybe she can talk some sense into you." In five even steps, the dancer was at the door. Alexial got to her feet when she noticed Erik and Madame Giry stride into the room.

"Madame Giry," she said, "I can't do this. I just can't."

"Do not fret," the older woman replied with a smile. "Help has arrived. Erik will train you to overcome your stage fright."

Alexial went rigid. "_What_?"

"Like I said, Erik will help."

"He can't help me," she gasped. "He'll kill me!"

"Absurd," he scoffed. "I would have killed you a long time ago if I wanted to." Alexial gazed at him, clearly puzzled.

"First the book and now lessons!" Meg sighed in exasperation. "You're turning out just like Christine!" Erik's eyes flashed dangerously toward the ballet girl, but he forced himself to remain silent. The stagehand saw this.

"I thank you monsieur," she mumbled, "but it's impossible!"

"We shall see."

It was midnight when Erik silently slipped into the room to pick up Alexial. Unfortunately, she had fallen asleep.

"Wake up, you useless-"

"I'm up, I'm up!" Alexial moaned in disgust. "Now get out."

"_What_?"

"I'm not going to change in front of you. Now OUT!" Grudgingly, Erik trudged out the door, muttering incoherently. Five minutes later, the Romanian emerged in simple black shirt and trousers, her hair falling delicately into her eyes. "Alright," she murmured, "let's go." Gripping her hand with his icy gloved one, he led her through a passageway in the wall, dimly illuminated by burning wall scones. Alexial stared, wide-eyed at the underground cavern.

"This is creepy, she said, voice quavering.

"You need not be frightened."

"I'm not. It's just-" She paused, sliding her fingers across the stonework. "-it brings back memories of war." The pair came to a long hallway with a white, snorting horse tied up at the side. The Phantom moved toward the animal, but Alexial gripped his cloak.

"No," she demanded softly. "I can walk. I'm not Christine Daae." A painful glimmer in his eyes told the stagehand she again had said something wrong.

Erik poled the gondola through the placid waters as Alexial gazed around at the dimly lit arches.

"If I may ask, monsieur," the girl asked timidly, "how long have you lived here?"

"For years," the Phantom answered simply. Alexial fell dead silent at his cold remark. Soon, they arrived at Erik's lair. Only a few flickering candles were lit and they cast eerie shadows across the rock floor. The Phantom nimbly stepped out of the gondola and offered a hand to Alexial, but in the darkness she didn't see it. Actually, the stagehand couldn't see a thing and ended up tumbling from the boat into the murky lake water, letting loose a couple of very unladylike words that were, thankfully, in Romanian.

"Clumsy girl," Erik laughed as he lit a few more candles. "Are you so incompetent as to not be able to see in a little darkness?"

"Well I'm sorry!" Alexial shrilled. "Not everyone can live in a cave for their whole life like _nosferatu_!"

"Maybe you can't adapt well enough like other people," he retorted.

"Bastard!"

"Infantile." Erik roughly grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked the girl inches away from his masked face. "If we are to survive this night," he snarled, "then you will listen to me and do as I say." The stagehand glowered furiously at the Phantom, but grudgingly agreed. "Good. Now-" He guided Alexial through his lair and into a back room. Unexpectedly, Nadir and Reza were sitting inside.

"Erik!" the Daroga yelled in astonishment. "Dear Allah, what are you doing with Miss Alexial!"

"You know her?" Erik asked, gesturing at the girl.

"You know him?" Alexial asked, pointing back at Erik. "I guess _this _is what you meant by 'watch out for the Opera Ghost,' Monsieur Nadir."

"You told her about me?" Erik growled dangerously.

"Yes I did," Nadir admitted. "I needed someone to help keep watch for you from inside the Opera House. Miss Alexial was the person I chose to help me."

"But Monsieur, how did you know I wouldn't run off and tell the police?"

"You were a foreign girl, and extremely desperate for a job. No police man would have taken you seriously. Besides, one of us would of killed you if you told." The stagehand smiled weakly.

"It is a good thing I was quiet about it."

"Yes, it was," Erik said. The iciness of his voice cut through Alexial's nerves like a knife, making her shiver slightly. Little Reza saw this and shuffled over to her, handing her his Persian designed blanket.

"I think you need this more than I." Alexial smiled softly at his as she accepted the blanket, murmuring her thanks.

"Now, if you please," Erik ordered, "act out your part in scene one." Before the girl could protest, the Phantom had swept behind her, tying a strip of cloth over her eyes. Bewildered by the sudden darkness, she flailed about her arms, accidentally whacking Erik's shoulder. He gripped both her wrists painfully tight. "Relax," he said flatly. "Just act. We'll be leaving the room soon."

"Yes, but Erik-" A slammed door and the sound of and _Il Muto _record spinning to life told her that the others must have left. (For all intents and purposes, the record player has been invented. Deal with it.) After around fifteen minutes of silent acting, the record screeched to a halt. Satisfied that she did the first scene without tripping or knocking over anything, Alexial untied the blindfold and promptly screamed. A black gloved hand shot out, clamping down on her gaping mouth.

"Silence!" Erik hissed. "You could wake the dead with that scream!"

"I'm sorry," she said, still in shock, "but you said you three were going to leave." Erik chuckled.

"I lied." Alexial yelled violently in Romanian, jabbing a finger at him.

"Father,' Reza asked, "what is Miss Alexial saying?"

"I'm not sure son," Nadir replied, "but whatever it is, I'm sure it is not pleasant." At that moment, a clock stuck two in the morning.

"Same time tomorrow," Erik said, opening the door. "Come, I shall escort you back."

Okay, hop to it, you should know the drill by now.


	10. Ayesha

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Eleven

Ayesha

For several nights, Alexial took lessons with Erik in front of Nadir a Reza and soon she was able to remove the blindfold while performing. Even sooner, she was able to perform in front of the entire cast. After one rehearsal, Meg ran up to her, wrapping the girl in a hug.

"Oh Alexial! That was brilliant! You got over your stage fright?"

"For the most part," the stagehand replied. "I still get the chills when I look out into the audience."

"Don't worry, you'll do fine tomorrow on opening night."

"I hope so." Alexial bade goodbye to Meg and slipped backstage unseen as everyone filed out for a relaxing evening. She yanked at a rope connecting to one of the overhanging platforms. "_Monsieur le Fantome, _you may come out now. I think everyone has left." Erik leapt down from the rafters, his cloak billowing about his skeletal figure.

"Not as good as others I've seen," he criticized, "but good enough. You will not be needing my services any longer."

"Erik?" the girl asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Thank you so much. I would never have gotten this far without you."

"I must go," he said, grasping another rope. "I suggest you get some rest for tomorrow. Goodnight." And like a fleeting shadow, Erik shot up along the rope and into the rafters.

_He's not human, _Alexial thought. _He's either a violent god or a true monster. _Still contemplating who Erik is, the Romanian girl turned and headed to bed.

'Very late that night, Alexial heard a soft scratching at the window. Groggily, the stagehand slid out from under her sheets and gently prodded the lump of fur curled up on the windowpane. The lump meowed sleepily and lifted it's head, revealing a scruffy brown cat with olive eyes.

"What are you doing here, little one?" she asked, picked up the cat who meowed again. "Your owner must be so worried." The cat curled up in Alexial's arms as she slipped out into the pitch black hallway, careful not to wake her slumbering roommate. After reaching the opera house stage, the Romanian heard a familiar voice calling out a peculiar name.

"Ayesha! Ayesha!" The cat's ears prick up in recognition and leapt out at the sound.

"Hey! Wait!" She ran after the animal, but slammed into a solid figure and fell back onto the glossed wood stage floor. An icy, boney fist closed around the front of her nightgown, lifting her up.

"What were you doing with Ayesha?" Erik snarled.

"Who's Ayesha?" The cat meowed as Alexial smirked. "I did not know you were a cat person." Erik narrowed his golden eyes as Alexial shrugged out of his loosened grasp. "No matter," she said, "I was just looking for her owner. I am glad I found him." She grinned. "Well, goodnight Erik."

The Phantom gazed after Alexial's retreating figure, barley noticing that Ayesha had padded after her. Confusion seared the image of her smile into his retinas.

"She was glad?" he mused. "She was _glad_ she found me?"

Oooh, confused Erik, how cute! He just doesn't understand why she would be happy to see him, cause everyone else would dread running into him. Well, review, but no flames. Many thanks!


	11. Opening Night

Disclaimer: Nope, I own nothing.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Twelve

Opening Night

"Alexial?" Meg asked, jostling the girl. "Where did you get this cat?" The stagehand groaned as sat up, shifting under Ayesha's dead weight.

"It's Erik's cat," she murmured tiredly. "I guess she followed me back." The ballet dancer reached out to pet Ayesha, but the cat arched her back and hissed. Meg recoiled in shock as Alexial scratched behind Ayesha's ears, making her purr.

"I guess it doesn't like me," Meg said.

"Maybe she just doesn't know you."

"Maybe, but get up! We need to get ready!"

Alexial turned around again and again in the ballet dressing room mirror, contemplating her garish costume and pasty white makeup.

"Do I really look like a man?" she asked.

"Of course not, dear girl," Madame Giry said. "You are just fine." Someone suddenly knocked on the door, startling he high-strung stagehand.

"Miss Alexial is needed on stage," called a male voice. "It's nearly time for the first act."

"Good luck dear," the ballet mistress said, briefly embracing the girl. "I'm sure you will do great."

"Thank you." The girl rushed out and followed the man through the halls and onto the stage where the sound of the audience clapping resounded all throughout the back of the stage. Unfortunately, Alexial started hyperventilating as the curtain went up.

"Over here, street rat!" Alexial turned on her heels, seeing Erik concealed in the backdrops.

"What?" she replied. "Go away! You will get caught!"

"Trust me, I won't." The Phantom eyed her in disgust. "Good God, you look hidious."

"Gee, thanks. _That _really helps my nerves."

"Silence! Just take deep breaths, you'll be fine. And if you get scared, close your eyes and keep going."

"Why are you advising me?"

"I'm not," he said bluntly. "I just don't want you to ruin the opera."

"_Thanks_," Alexial sneered. At her cue, the Romanian girl rushed out on stage, the garishly bright lights making her sweat slightly. Her chest tightened with nervousness, her breaths coming in gasps. She closed her eyes and turned away from the audience, breathing gently. As Alexial opened her eyes, a new calm settled over her and she was able to act freely. Throughout the performance, Alexial avoided looking out into the thousands of eyes glued to her every move. Soon, the opera came to a close and she and Meg were able to o off to bed.

"Well _that _was an experience," Alexial sighed as she climbed into bed.

"You did great," Meg assured her. The stagehand shrugged.

"Well, it's only a one time event. The actual pageboy will be back tomorrow and I go back to being a regular stagehand."

"Oh well," said Meg. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Madame Giry and Erik were sitting in the ballet mistress's kitchen, two steaming cups of rosemary tea sitting idly on the table.

"I must thank you Erik," Giry murmured, picking up her cup. "Little Alexial did very well."

Erik remained silent.

"You seem troubled, Erik. Care to tell me what's wrong?"

The Phantom looked away, still not talking.

"Is it about Alexial?"

"So what if it is?" he roared, storming out. Giry shook her head, already knowing the answer.

Ayesha: Meow.

And that is your cue to review without flames and stay tuned for the next chapter. Thanks!


	12. Normal Life

Disclaimer: I will never own Erik, and that is fact, no matter how much I want that fact to be false.

Backstage Kisses

Chapter Thirteen

Normal Life

"Extra! Extra! Read all'a 'bout it! Hostage Murderer strikes again! Read all'a 'bout it!"

It was almost six months since Alexial arrived in Paris, and life went on as usual. New Opera's came in swiftly, and the stagehand adapted quickly to the switching of various sets an colored lights for each and every opera. Today was a bright, Sunday afternoon in the middle of October, and Alexial had run out into the street after church to buy a newspaper for she and Meg.

"One franc, please," the paperboy slurred. The Romanian happily obliged, snatched up the bundle of papers, and sprinted back to the Opera Populair.

"Meg! Madame Giry!" she called, bursting through the dormitory door. "Where are you?" The two Girys, as well as many concerned ballet girls, rushed over.

"What's wrong Alexial?" Meg asked.

"Listen to this." The stagehand flipped open the newspaper to the main headline. "Late last night, the Hostage Murderer locked himself and an eight year old girl in a local doll shop. He took all the money in the safe as ransom, but not before shooting the girl in the head and running off. Family members are extremely distraught over the girl's death, the girl being Miss Claudia Seraphim. Police still have no solid leads as to who has been committing this heinous string of crimes." The entire group fell silent for a few moments.

"That poor little girl," cried one dancer.

"She was so young!" sobbed another. The rest of the ballet dancers shuffled away, leaving Alexial with the Girys.

"I hope they catch this monster soon," said Madame Giry.

"So do I," replied her daughter as the Romanian skimmed the article again.

"How can they not have a lead?" she queried angrily. "He's struck, God knows how may times before."

"Yeah, but you can't catch everyone," Meg pointed out. "Scotland Yard hasn't caught Jack the Ripper."

"True." Alexial set the newspaper down before heading out with the others.

"Do you want this?" the ballet dancer asked, glancing a the discarded paper. "It's an awful waste."

"Erik probably would like to read it. Besides, we made a deal: he gets my old newspaper, I get the books he doesn't want."

The Phantom sat at his organ, Alexial's old newspaper spread out over the keys along with a few scrapped pieces of music. Nadir looked over his companions shoulder, reading the headline and sighing.

"The damned murderer struck again," Erik muttered bitterly.

"Yes," the Daroga said, "it's quite tedious that the police have not caught him either. The whole city is on edge."

"It could be anyone, for he covers his face." Erik suddenly turned around, looking Nadir straight in the eye. "I'll have you know this is none of my doing."

"I know, Erik, I know."

"Good." He leaned down, elbows resting on his thighs and his chin on his laced fingers, eyes glittering in thought.

"You're thinking about someone," Nadir stated, smiling. "I can tell."

"The foreign girl," he said quietly. "If she is murdered, it causes problems for many people."

"You are worried about her!"

"I am not!"

"Of course you're not, Erik," the Persian laughed before leaving the lair as the Phantom ground his teeth and cleared away the paper.

"This is insanity," he whispered, then pounded furiously on the organ keys.

No, there is no Hostage Murderer, but Jack the Ripper was a real person. Also, it's just a paper headline. The Hostage Murderer won't play any major part in the story. Please review, but no flames. Thank you very much!


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